


Forgiven

by EpicCurves



Series: Bad Wolf [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Wolf, Canon-Typical Violence, Distrust, Hale Family Feels, Multi, Post-Season 3A (Teen Wolf), Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpicCurves/pseuds/EpicCurves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you want to find a pack?” he asks. He knows the question is fairly out of the blue, but he doesn’t know if there’s a better way to ask, or a better time.</p>
<p>She freezes and stares at him, cheeseburger lifted halfway to her mouth, looking nothing but genuinely bewildered. “What do you mean? We are a pack.”</p>
<p>“I’m not an Alpha any more,” he corrects.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t want another Alpha. You’re my family. That’s all the pack I need.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly happier fic this time, ‘cuz Derek deserves a good day once in a while, and just this once-- _just this once, Rose_ \-- everybody lives! No, but seriously, don’t get used to that. It won’t be happening again.
> 
> Plot builds slowly in this one, and the timeline spans several months instead of the week-or-so the last one did. I pick highlights of key events for the storytelling rather than describing the whole time in detail. I may skip chunks of time without implicitly stating it, but I do try to at least imply the appropriate passage of time through hints in dialogue and common sense. Some mildly-Sterek’d moments, some major Hale Family Feels, and some accidental mystery. I guess it’s more of a character study, but there is actual plot in there eventually.
> 
> Timeline notes: Teen Wolf season 1 aired in 2011, so sticking with that year as the start of all this, the events that follow start around the beginning of 2012.
> 
> Stiles doesn’t appear in person, and still no Doctor. Rose’s quest will be a long one.

The text arrives as Derek’s sitting on the rooftop of his old New York apartment building, watching the sunrise and catching his breath. He’d awoken early that morning to fit in his workout, getting it out of the way first to leave time for all the meetings and interviews and other tasks of the day. He blinks down at his phone in confusion. _Do you remember a book from your family’s library with a weird werewolf sci fi Little Red Riding Hood time travel story?_

It’s from Stiles. Why is Stiles texting him? How the hell did Stiles find that book? How had that story, of all of them, managed to survive the fire? And of course he remembers it. The book was a study of werewolf origin stories from various cultures. He’d ignored the analysis portions of the book as a kid, finding them boring, but he’d always been fond of the stories. His Mom would sometimes read them to him when he was having a bad day. _That was my favorite story growing up._ he sends, before he can think better of it.

He gapes and stares incredulously when the next text arrives, completely at a loss for words. _Would you believe me if I told you it’s a true story, and that I’m Little Red?_

No. No way. Simply impossible. Ridiculous. As if Stiles wasn’t crazy enough already. This is just… this is too much. He can’t. He just can’t with this. _No._ he replies. Unacceptable.

...Okay, so maybe he’s overreacting a bit. But he has Reasons. Very important, very personal reasons that he really doesn’t want to go into with Stiles.

 _I’m serious. Turns out waking the Nemeton made Beacon Hills more than just a beacon for the supernatural. We’ve got ourselves a genuine rift in spacetime._ That… actually sounds way too plausible. With all the crap that goes on in that town already, Derek can definitely picture something like that happening. Especially to Stiles. God damn it.

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in exasperation. _Damn it, Stiles. I leave, and look at the mess you get yourself into…_

_Tell me the story._

But… what? Why? _Didn’t you just live it? You probably know it better than I do._

 _I know the facts. I want to hear the story._ And, okay, Derek can appreciate the distinction there. He still thinks it’s silly, but he can play along.

 _Fine_ , he sends. _It was a dark and stormy night…_

He’s instantly rewarded with Stiles’ response to his snark. _No, shut up. This is serious storytime right now. Do it right._

He snorts and his mouth twitches involuntarily into an almost-smile. He’s missed the easy banter he and Stiles shared. Right. Serious storytime. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The memory of his mother’s voice fills his head, her warm hand brushing the hair away from his forehead as he’d drift in that weightless realm of not-quite-asleep.

The overwhelming flood of emotions makes him want to run away from the whole situation. _It’s been a long time. I might not remember everything._ he lies. He’d memorized the story long ago.

_Please?_

...Ah, crap. Well. Can’t really say no to that. He’s a terrifying creature of the night, for sure, but he’s not _mean_.

He takes one more deep, calming breath before launching into the story. Text message isn’t really the best medium for such storytelling, but he’s too much of a coward to turn this into a phone call. He recites it, a sentence or two at a time, his mother’s voice echoing in his mind.

Stiles seems mostly content to just let Derek tell the story, not sending much in the way of commentary. Derek is actually fairly surprised about that, given how vocal the young man usually is. When Derek gets to the point of the story that describes Little Red-- describes _Stiles_ \-- Stiles sends, _Ha! Seriously? That’s how the story describes me?_

Derek can’t help but feel embarrassed. He had never admitted it to anyone, and never ever will, especially now, especially to Stiles, but Little Red from this particular story was his first ever-- and by far his biggest-- literary crush. Little Red was clever, witty, sarcastic, fiercely protective, wise beyond his years, incredibly brave… everything young Derek had wanted to be when he grew up, and everything he’d wanted to find in a life partner as soon as he understood the concept. All with bright amber eyes and an infectious smile.

Now, to find out it was actually Stiles… Well. Figures.

_Yes, Stiles. That’s Little Red. Do you want to hear the story or not?_

_Sorry, just not used to you saying nice things about me. Please, continue._

Derek scowls, but resumes the story. Stiles interjects occasionally with factoids from his own experience: _Chris Argent_ , he supplies, when Derek describes the hunter; _Two more were with us, and we had to rescue Ms. Morrell and Danny Mahealani._ ; _We totally had an awesome rescue plan all mapped out, but they ruined it by showing up early._

Stiles doesn’t interrupt at all during big battle scene. Only at the very end, after Bad Wolf transforms her warriors into werewolves, and Little Red stands before the last of the fallen foes to declare their victory, does he comment. _Really? That’s all they say about the battle?_

_Why? Did they miss something important?_

His phone stays silent for a few minutes. Derek is starting to wonder if he should just start up again or if Stiles is even still there, when he finally responds. _I guess not. It’s fine. Just keep going._

Derek thinks it’s definitely not fine, but he decides not to press the issue right now. Maybe Stiles will tell him what the deal is after the story ends. There isn’t much more to the story after that, actually, so he finishes fairly quickly. _...And they all lived happily ever after. The End._

He waits impatiently for Stiles’ next text. He’s not used to being the one saying so much, waiting for a response. He doesn’t much like it. He finally can’t stand it any more. _How does it compare?_

He’s relieved when he finally receives something from Stiles again. _Wow. Awesome. No, really. I like your version of the story much better._

Derek really wants to ask for the true story, but he doesn’t quite know how. He sees the time when he next glances at his phone, though, and he knows he’ll have to leave soon. He has work to do today. _What are you even doing up at this hour?_ he asks instead.

 _I could ask you the same thing._ Stiles is deflecting, Derek knows. Something is up with him, but Derek doesn’t know how to go about finding out what.

 _It’s not that early over here._ he admits.

 _Oh. Where are you?_ he receives, just as he hears Cora calling him down for breakfast.

As much as he’d like this to continue, he does have a busy day ahead of him. _I have to go._ he sends, and climbs the fire escape back down to his window. Stiles doesn’t text back.


	2. Chapter 2

Cora still refuses to tell Derek how she survived the fire. She won’t say what she’s been up to for all these years, either. Won’t even tell him how she ended up with the Alpha pack. Derek wants to trust her, he really does. She’s family, after all, the only one he has left (the only one besides Peter, but Derek is hesitant to include him in that label, not sure quite how to define him, after everything). He stayed by her side while she was dying, gave up his Alpha powers to save her life. Instincts and habit borne of their upbringing tell him to trust her, love her, protect her. But her silence is grating.

He’s stopped asking outright. She closes off every time he tries. She agreed to stick with him when he wanted to return to New York, though. He only has one semester left to complete his Bachelor’s degree, which he’d put on hold when Laura went missing. Cora even lets him enroll her in a decent high school, as Laura had done for him after the fire. Education was always important in their family.

He studies her warily as they sit in uncomfortable silence at the diner. She’s trying to be a good sister, a good packmate, he can tell. He just wishes she’d tell him what happened to her.

“Do you want to find a pack?” he asks. He knows the question is fairly out of the blue, but he doesn’t know if there’s a better way to ask, or a better time.

She freezes and stares at him, cheeseburger lifted halfway to her mouth, looking nothing but genuinely bewildered. “What do you mean? We are a pack.”

“I’m not an Alpha any more,” he corrects.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t want another Alpha. You’re my family. That’s all the pack I need.” She returns her focus to her burger, taking large bites and chewing enthusiastically.

“We might be able to find one here, that would be willing to take us in,” he continues, “or we can go somewhere else, after I graduate, find somewhere to settle down…”

“Derek,” she interrupts with a frown, “I told you. You’re my Alpha. I won’t accept another.”

“But I’m _not_ ,” he insists. Why won’t she just understand this? “We’re weak, like this. Without an Alpha, with just the two of us. We’re too vulnerable.”

“I trust you,” she tells him, and he gapes in shock at how forthright and utterly genuine she sounds. “ _You_ , Derek. No one else. We’ll be fine. _Together._ ”

He has no idea what to say to that, no clue how he can respond. He supposes he should be flattered by the declaration of loyalty. He probably _should_ return the favor, tell her he trusts her, too. It’s probably what she expects, or at least hopes, to get from him. But he can’t. She’s still an unknown variable, a potential threat, for as long as she stays so stubbornly silent on her past.

Maybe he should just insist they find a new pack anyway. Find out if she’d follow his lead if he decided that’s what’d be best for them both. But truth be told, he doesn’t really want a new Alpha, either. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to trust anyone enough to submit.

She’s now digging merrily into her fries, and he snaps his mouth shut and scowls down at his own plate. He hates feeling this conflicted. She seems to be truly sincere in her trust for him, in her desire to stay by his side, to be his pack. He hasn’t detected any lie from her about that. He’ll give her the benefit of the doubt for the moment, not sure if there’s much else he can do for now. Maybe she’ll open up to him if he just gives her time.

He tries again on another subject. “How did things go at school?” he asks. She had a meeting with the guidance counselor and a collection of placement tests to map out her coursework today.

She shrugs. “Had its ups and downs. I’m way behind in history and English, but math, bio, and physics are good.”

“I can help you catch up,” he offers.

She nods and smiles lightly. “Thanks.”

The conversation lulls into awkward silence again. He’s really no good at this. He feels like he should be talking to her more, trying to get to know her again, but he just doesn’t know what to say. He’s a man of action, not one for many words. Smalltalk is not his strong suit.

He fixes his glare out the window instead of on his sister. The graffiti on the building across the street says BAD WOLF in bright greens and yellows. He wonders, for a moment, at the coincidence of seeing those words here, so soon after recounting the Bad Wolf story to Stiles, but he dismisses those thoughts as being ridiculous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this before it's completed, sorry. I'll try to finish it as quickly as I can. I'm excited about these chapters, though, and want to get something out there while I still have internet access. That might be going away for a while. Ugh, life. Being a grown-up sucks.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek and Cora celebrate New Year’s in the quiet contentment of their apartment. He wonders, at first, if she’d prefer to go out. They’re in New York, after all, and there are sure to be some epic parties practically everywhere, but he’s not much for crowds of drunken strangers, and neither, it seems, is she. They sit on the rooftop with takeout, watching the distant celebrations in companionable silence. He even picked up a bottle of champagne from the specialty shop down the street, a brand he’d remembered his parents buying, with a full moon embossed on the label.

The semester begins a few days later, and life quickly falls into a routine. Days fill with classwork, homework, studying, workouts. He helps Cora with her own schoolwork, proud to find her report card finally reflecting her intelligence. She’s a fast learner, and with his tutoring, she’s all caught up in history and English in no time. She’s been able to pull leaps and bounds ahead of all her classmates in math and sciences all on her own. He’s curious what sort of education she’d been exposed to during the past few years that would get her like this, but she won’t tell him if he asks.

She’s still suspiciously tight-lipped about those missing years, but they’ve found an easy middle ground by now, bonding over study sessions and sparring practice, reminiscing over the years Before, sharing meals and exploring the city together.

Stiles keeps texting Derek at odd hours. Not every day, but often enough that it’s no longer a surprise. Derek doesn’t know what to make of it. They don’t talk about what’s happening in Beacon Hills, or what Derek’s been up to. Sometimes Stiles requests another storytime. Sometimes he just seems to want to ramble on about some completely random subject. Something he’s studying in school, maybe, or something he found on a Wikipedia research chain. He literally went on a two-hour rant about the price of tea in China one night. Trivial, meaningless things, like the history of doorknobs, or the pros and cons of different materials for pillowcases.

Sometimes-- not often, but sometimes-- Stiles will ask about various supernatural creatures, see if Derek knows anything useful. Those are the conversations that worry Derek the most. He wants to ask, wonders if he should go back, if they need his help, but he’s afraid to lose the easy rapport they have going. He doesn’t want to admit how much he loves these conversations with Stiles. He tries, once, to get Stiles to tell him more. _Why do you need to know about wendigos?_ he asks.

_Never mind. Gotta go, Scott’s calling._ Stiles responds, and doesn’t reply to any further texts Derek sends. Derek tries to convince himself he’s not worried, but he feels off somehow, thrown out of rhythm for the rest of the day. Cora’s sending him weird looks over breakfast, but he pointedly ignores it and pretends nothing’s wrong.

He’s still distracted during class, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “Mister Hale,” a voice calls, startling him out of his thoughts. “Are you with us?”

“What?” he asks, and he meets the amused eyes of Professor Williams at the front of the class. “Sorry, sir. Yes, I’m fine.”

The professor raises a skeptical eyebrow, but continues the lecture. Derek makes more of an effort to pay attention, and mostly succeeds. When class is dismissed, however, the professor calls out to him again and asks him to stay behind for a moment. “Something’s bothering you, Hale,” he observes. It’s not a question.

“Sorry, sir,” Derek repeats. “I’ll pay attention--”

Professor Williams holds up his hand to interrupt. “I know you will. You’re a good student. That’s not what I’m worried about.” He smiles warmly, and Derek fights the urge to shift uncomfortably. He’s not used to kindness from strangers, not unless it’s accompanied by threats on his life. “I just want to let you know, if you need someone to talk to, about anything, I’m here to listen.”

“Thank you, sir, I appreciate the offer.” For a moment, he allows himself to entertain the idea of confiding in this man. What would he say, though? _I’m worried that the maybe-sometimes-friend-who-still-probably-mostly-hates-me who I sometimes have text conversations with in the middle of the night might be in trouble with any number of supernatural creatures, and oh, by the way, I may also have a moderately inappropriate crush on said not-friend, who also happens to be the underage son of the Sheriff, back in the town where almost my entire family was murdered?_ Yeah, not so much.

The professor studies him for a minute, probably hoping he’ll choose to speak up. Derek doesn’t, though, and the older man sighs. “Well. Keep it in mind. Oh, and…” He moves around to rummage through the drawers of his desk. “Hold on one moment.” He mutters to himself while he rifles through papers and books. “Ha! Gotcha,” he exclaims, grinning, as he pulls a book out from the bottom of a disordered pile. He holds the book out to Derek. “Just a little something to think about. If my suspicions are correct, you may find parts of it surprisingly insightful.”

Derek frowns down at the book, _A Journal of Impossible Things_ by Verity Newman. “Um. Thanks?” What does the man think he knows? Should Derek be worried? He fights to keep his face impassive.

“Lovely lady, that Verity Newman. I met her at one of her book signings. She insists that’s all a true story. And you know what?” He leans forward conspiratorially and winks. “I think she might be right.”

“Okay.” Derek is feeling particularly uncomfortable right now. “Well. I should go. Class starting soon. Thanks. For the book,” he says, stiff and awkward as he tries to make his escape. “I’ll get this back to you soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. you can keep that one,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “See you on Wednesday!”

Derek grunts and nods sharply as he retreats out the door. He’s pretty sure Professor Williams is a good man, not out to get him, but he is a bit eccentric.

Derek does his best to fade into the background for the rest of his classes, to be as invisible as possible. He alternates between worry for Stiles, paranoia about Professor Williams, and curiosity about the book. He barely pays enough attention to the day's lectures to take perfunctory notes, but he does manage somehow. He knows he hasn't really absorbed any of it, but he has faith in his ability to capture what he needs on paper so he can rectify that later.

He still isn’t feeling any better by the end of the day. He gets a prickling feeling on his skin while he’s waiting for the subway, like someone’s watching him. He looks around, tries to scent the air subtly, but he doesn’t see anything, and there’s almost no way to pick out a single unusual smell from the sensory overload of the crowd.

He ignores the feeling for now and boards the train when it arrives. Not much he can do until he can identify the threat. His fingers idly brush the edge of the plastic seat he claims. Someone’s written BAD WOLF there in spiky, stylized script. He stretches against a sudden, sharp crick in his neck as he watches the people around him.

Stiles doesn’t text that night, but he does the next, demanding a story. Derek grouses a bit halfheartedly, but ultimately gives in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a deleted scene/DVD extra from The Angels Take Manhattan, _P.S._ , where a man, Anthony Brian Williams, delivers a letter to Rory's father and reveals that he's Amy and Rory's adopted son. I LOVE that scene, so I'm adopting it as part of my Doctor Who canon, and that's who Professor Williams is. He grew up listening to Amy and Rory's stories of their travels with the Doctor. So of course he's a little eccentric and mildly obsessed with the Doctor, and fancies himself a great observer of humanity, such that he thinks he can pick up when his students might need to commiserate over wacky Doctor-y shenanigans.


	4. Chapter 4

Cora finally asks him one evening, while they’re digging in to their Thai takeout. “Who are you texting all the time?”

He blinks at her, confused. He didn’t know she’d noticed. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says, and tries to go back to his curry.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” she says, fixing him with an accusatory glare. “You’ve been talking to someone, when you think I can’t see. Who is it?”

He sighs and scowls. He kind of wants to keep this to himself, keep his conversations with Stiles just his own personal thing, but he, at least, doesn’t want any more secrets between himself and his sister. He, at least, wants to be open and honest with her, and maybe someday she’ll do the same for him. “It’s Stiles.”

She wrinkles her nose in confusion and mild distaste. “Stilinski? The annoying kid from Beacon Hills? Why?”

Her tone rankles at him, and he bristles, defensive. “He’s not that bad,” he insists.

She stares at him for a moment, as though he’s a puzzle she needs to figure out. “What do you two even talk about?”

“Nothing. Just. Random stuff. Doorknobs and pillowcases. It doesn’t matter.” He doesn’t know how to explain this to her. He doesn’t even know how to explain it to himself. And he knows she’ll be reading too much into anything he says. She’s still frowning at him, so he sighs and continues. “I don’t know why he’s texting me. He just does, sometimes, and I reply.” He shrugs, a _what can you do?_ sort of gesture, and focuses on scooping up just the right rice-curry-meat ratio for his next bite.

She doesn’t look satisfied with his explanation, but nothing he’s just said was technically a lie, so she lets it drop.

He winces slightly and scowls as a phantom pain jolts through his chest. He rubs at it absently and wonders if the food is disagreeing with him, though it never has before.

In truth, the conversations with Stiles have been getting increasingly erratic and worrying. He’s texting more frequently and yet with more unpredictable timing. The topics have taken a turn towards the strange, even in the context of Beacon Hills and Stiles’ own mind, with mentions of aliens and conspiracy theories and secret government agencies creeping in. His thoughts seem scattered, chaotic, sometimes becoming obsessively fixated on a topic and other times making rapid, disjointed leaps mid-thought.

Derek doesn’t like what he’s hearing. Stiles is clearly not fine, despite all his insistences to the contrary. More than once, Derek has considered simply packing a bag and going back to see what’s up. He has obligations here, though, and nothing concrete calling him away. He’ll ignore it for now, just settle for being at his phone whenever Stiles needs him, even though something inside him is screaming to go back.

Derek feels eyes on him again as he walks to the grocery store the next day. This time, he catches a distinct whiff of other-werewolf scent. It's not one he recognizes. Whoever it is stays out of sight. He doesn’t know what they want, or what he should do about it.

Cora hasn’t said anything about being followed, so either she isn’t of interest to his stalkers (yet?), or she knows who it is and isn’t telling him for some reason. Did she leave a pack behind when she came back to him? Maybe they’re friendly, albeit… misguided in their attempts at being protective. Derek doubts he’s that lucky.

He decides not to bring it up to her, just watch and wait. Be prepared to defend himself, just in case. Catch one by surprise and ask what they want, if he gets a chance. Until then, there’s not much he can do besides going about his life as usual.


	5. Chapter 5

"Someone followed me home today," Cora announces as she shuts the door behind her and drops her backpack. "Another werewolf, from the scent."

Derek glances up at her briefly before returning his focus to his book. "You too, huh? Not just me then. Good to know," he mutters.

“You’ve been followed, too? Why didn’t you tell me?” she demands, planting her hands on her hips.

He shrugs. “I don’t know who it is, or what they want. Didn’t want to worry you for no reason.”

He watches her face fall, hurt and angry and sad, as she realizes the implications of what he isn’t saying. “You still don’t trust me. Even after all this time, after all we’ve been through together. You thought-- you thought it was me? How could you… You know I would never--”

Derek snaps his book shut violently, and she flinches. “Do I? What, exactly, do I know about you? I know who you were before the fire. I know what you’ve been like the past few months, but I know nothing about the intervening six years. A lot could’ve happened in that time. And I’m sorry, but your silence on the matter isn’t particularly comforting.” She purses her lips and looks away guiltily, but, as per usual, doesn’t offer any explanations. He sighs in frustration and sets his book aside, unwilling to continue rehashing the same dead-end arguments. “It’s not the local pack. I would’ve recognized their scent.”

“You know the local pack?” she asks, settling into her favored armchair to face him.

He hums in affirmation. “Met them when Laura and I first came here, and re-negotiated the terms of our stay here when I returned with you. They’re good people.”

“Who could it be, then?”

“You’re sure you didn’t recognize the scent? It wasn’t… I don’t know, whatever pack you’d been with before, maybe?”

She frowns at him. “I wasn’t with a pack. Wasn’t around any werewolves at all for that whole time, so of course I wouldn’t recognize the scent.”

He raises his eyebrows, surprised and pleased to finally be getting something out of her about that time. Not that it gives him much to work with, but it’s something, at least. A sign of solidarity, a gesture of trust, even if she’s not ready to give him the full story yet, for whatever reason. “They’ve been tailing me for a few weeks now. Whoever it is, they haven’t made a move to do anything. They’ve just been watching.”

“And now they’re following me, too. What the hell do they want?”

He shrugs and picks up his book again. “I’m sure we’ll find out eventually.”

She glares at him. “How are you so calm about this? What if they’re planning on killing us?”

“They probably are,” he says. He’s thought about all of this already. He knows, by now, from experience, to always expect the worst-case scenario.

She throws her arms up in exasperation. “Gah! Then… what-- aren’t you going to do something?”

“No. Not until I know for sure what they want.” The conversation should be over now. They've established that they know nothing and need to wait to see what the threat is. So why is she still talking?

"Well, then is there something we should do to make sure we aren't caught by surprise?"

"We're already doing it," he tells her, rolling his eyes. It's common sense, he thinks. Not that complicated. "Being aware of our surroundings, keeping an eye out for our stalkers, keeping in shape with our workouts."

"But what if they--"

"Cora," he interrupts, meeting her worried eyes, "do you trust me?"

She frowns in confusion. "Yes, of course I do," she answers without hesitation, with absolute certainty.

He tries not to be thrown off-balance by her show of faith. It is what he asked for, after all. Shouldn't be so unexpected. "Then don't worry about it. We have it under control."

He's shocked to see her actually relax at that, tension draining from her body, frown melting off her face. "Okay," she says. Simple as that. Like she truly believes him.

He doesn't know what to do in the face of such explicit trust, so he refocuses on his book and resolves to do everything in his power to make sure her faith is not misplaced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as much as I have completed for now. The rest is in progress, and I'll post as I go. Sorry for the wait.


	6. Chapter 6

Winter passes quietly, slowly fading to the brighter, warmer days of spring. Derek and Cora take frequent runs in the park as the snow clears away. Derek loves the people-watching he gets to do as more groups come out to enjoy the park. Families, friends, couples. Human interaction in all its forms. He listens to snippets of conversations as he runs past. Not enough to feel intrusive, just enough to get a glimpse of a story. Maybe something to inspire one of his storytimes with Stiles.

One cloudy afternoon, he hears a trio of friends bickering about a book one of them is apparently reading. “...And a vulnerable side she keeps well hidden,” a sarcastic Scottish woman’s voice recites.

“Oh, you’ve read it,” one of the men mutters.

“ _You_ read it. Out loud. And then went, _‘Yowzah!’_ ” the woman complains

“You know, only you could fancy someone in a book,” the third declares. Derek can’t contain his incredulous snort. _No, my good man,_ Derek thinks, _not only your friend could fancy someone in a book_. Derek thinks of all the fictional characters he’s fallen in love with over the years, from both the page and the screen. He’s had healthier relationships with any of them than he’s ever had out in the real world. Virgin sacrifice, mass murderer, serial killer… yeah, probably best to stick with fictional loves for now.

The woman demands her friend continue the story, and the reader complies, after first making his own modification to the book with the sound of ripping paper. “...Then it doesn’t have to end. I _hate endings_.” Derek runs on, thinking now about his literary loves, especially that first one...

Speaking of books, though, there’s something Derek really should investigate. He finally decides he needs to ask Professor Williams about the _Journal of Impossible Things_. After another day of internal debate on how to broach the subject, he heads to the man’s office hours after Thursday classes.

As he gets closer, he can hear that the professor is not alone in his office. A woman with a cheerful British accent is with him. Derek hangs back and tries not to eavesdrop, until he hears her say something about Bad Wolf. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he creeps closer so he can hear better. Well, if they didn’t want eavesdroppers or interruptions, they really shouldn’t have left the door open. He decides to blame Stiles for being a bad influence on him and re-sparking his interest in all things Bad Wolf.

"...Least my parents didn't have a choice. There's closure in that, as painful as it is," the professor's voice drifts through the open doorway. "He really abandoned you in another universe? Just like that? Didn't even ask what you wanted?"

"Well, it's not like he knew what I was at that point," the woman's voice answers. "He truly thought it'd be for the best."

"Yes, well, the Doctor is not infallible, is he?" The Doctor? But that's the man... In this very book, too... It's too convenient a coincidence to ignore.

Derek hesitantly peeks his head through the doorway and knocks. "Excuse me, Professor?" The pair turn to look at him curiously. "Sorry to interrupt. I was wondering if you have a moment to--"

"Ah, Mister Hale! Please, come in. Your timing is... interesting. Fortuitous, even." Professor Williams motions him in with a grin. The woman eyes him warily, confused at the professor’s attitude toward the interruption. "Finally going to ask me about that book, eh?"

"Um, yes. I was just-- I don't want to intrude, if you're busy, but..."

"No, please, it's good. Rose," the older man addresses the woman, "this is Derek Hale, one of my favorite students. Derek, this is Rose Tyler," he introduces, waggling his eyebrows and pitching his voice to better convey the significance of her identity in context.

"Nice to meet you, Derek--" something sparks in her eyes, and a surprised grin stretches across her features. " _Derek Hale?_ Not from Beacon Hills, are you?"

Derek blinks in surprise. "Yes, actually. How did you know--?"

"We have a mutual friend," she informs him with a wink. "Our Little Red."

"Bad Wolf," he breathes in realization. This can't possibly be coincidence. He looks at the book clutched in his hand. “You, Rose Tyler, you’re Bad Wolf. The Doctor is real. Aliens are real, everything in this book... There’s a time rift in Beacon Hills and Stiles isn’t crazy, he’s been trying to tell me this whole time--” He grabs the door frame for support. He can’t breathe, he’s so relieved, knowing that Stiles might not be slowly spiraling into madness after all.

Rose’s worried frown brings an abrupt end to his brief fit of happiness, though. “You’ve talked to him? How is he? He hasn’t been answering my calls.”

And, well, Derek would very much like to know that, too. How is he, really? What’s going on in Beacon Hills that he’s refusing to talk about? “He’s-- not great, I think. He won’t tell me.”

“Ah,” Professor Williams interrupts, and Derek had almost forgotten about him in his thoughts about Stiles, “I think this is a conversation you two don’t really need me for. Perhaps we can finish up here so you two can catch up?”

"Right, of course," Rose says, turning her focus back to the professor. "I just missed him, then, yeah?"

The man nods apologetically. "By one day. And he won't be coming back any time soon, I think it'd just be too painful for him. At least for his future self. Can't say for sure what he got up to in his past."

"Who?" Derek asks. He knows it's probably none of his business, but he can't help being curious.

"The Doctor," Professor Williams answers. "He was having a picnic in Central Park with my parents yesterday, before my dad was-- well. It's a long story. There's another book I can give you if you want to hear more of it," he adds with a grin, though there's a sad edge to it this time.

Derek almost smiles as a thought strikes him. "I went for a run there with my sister yesterday. Who knows, maybe I passed by them without even knowing it."

The professor chuckles. "Well, now, wouldn't that be a remarkable coincidence?"

Rose raises an eyebrow. "No such thing as coincidence when you're dealing with time travel," she declares. She sounds very much like she's speaking from experience. "Well. Guess my business here is done." She shifts in her seat, preparing to leave.

"Derek, you just wanted to ask about the book, right?" the professor asks. "Anything in particular concern you?"

"Yes, I just," he glances between the professor and Rose, trying to find the words for what he wants to say. This whole situation didn't exactly go in a direction he'd been expecting. "Maybe Rose has more relevant information for me." There was a brief mention of werewolves of some sort in the book, and Derek had wondered, at first, if that had been the professor's purpose in having him read it, but now he thinks the situation is much more complicated than that. He doesn’t want to have to reveal any more than is absolutely necessary to the professor. Let him think everything is aliens, if that’s what he wants to believe.

“Yes, that’s probably best,” Rose agrees, even as Professor WIlliams pouts at being left out. “Is there somewhere we can have a chat?”

Derek considers for a moment, then settles for where he’ll be comfortable. If Stiles trusts her, he supposes he can, too. “My place. My sister should be included.”

“Right. After you, Derek,” she says, gesturing to the door with a smirk.

“See you in class tomorrow, then, Hale,” the professor sighs, waving them both off and pulling out a stack of papers to grade.

Derek inclines his head at the man, in acknowledgement and gratitude. “Thank you, professor.” He starts out the door, Rose hanging a few steps behind, but hesitates before he’s all the way out. “And, sir, if that offer to talk is still on the table, I might want to take you up on it later.”

A grin brightens the man’s features, and Derek feels like he’s finally done something right in deciding to confide in him. He just looks so excited, without any hint of malice, like a kid who’s just been promised a trip to Disneyland. Derek ducks out the door before the professor has a chance to respond.

Rose gives a low whistle as she walks behind him. “Stiles was right about you,” she mutters.

Derek glances back sharply, catching her checking him out. He frowns, confused and mildly uncomfortable at being objectified. Not that he’s surprised she finds him attractive. It’s common enough. But what does Stiles have to do with it? “Right about what?”

“Nothing,” she lies with a grin.

He narrows his eyes, but decides to ignore it, instead stepping into the elevator as it arrives. A sharp pain races through his head and he falters, clutching at the elevator wall to keep himself upright. Rose reaches out to place a hand on his arm, concerned. “You alright there? What’s wrong?”

The pain is already fading. He takes a breath to compose himself, gently pushes off her hand. “Fine. Just a headache. Gone now.”

She looks skeptical, but doesn’t press him. He catches the scent of his stalkers the moment they exit the building. He’s a bit surprised at that. They’ve never followed this closely before, never ventured onto campus before. Rose starts asking him something, but he stops her, lowers his voice enough that the stalkers won’t hear. “We’re being followed.”

She studies him, suspicious. “You don’t look surprised.”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing new.”

She nods, apparently trusting enough to take him at his word, and starts chatting about the city, various tourist stops, safe and completely unrelated topics. He relaxes minutely and allows himself to contribute to the conversation.

They make it all the way home, up to the apartment, where Cora’s already at the dining table doing homework, before everything goes to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, writing is hard. Sorry this is taking so long. I'll get the rest of this one up before I disappear into the wilderness. I may also be taking a bit longer than necessary what with having a really short attention span and getting ideas and starting work on parts 3, 4, and 5 before this one is even over... But exciting things will be coming! Eventually. I think only three chapters left of this one? Then on to more adventure, yay!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy with how this chapter turned out, but I don't really have the patience or the attention span to fix it any more, and I'm running out of internet-availability-time. Don't want to sit on this forever. To be quite honest, I've been putting much more effort into the next few parts of this series. Stiles' voice is easier for me to write, and I'm enjoying some heartbreaking Rose narrative. Happy isn't my strong suit these days.
> 
> But anywho. Here, have some plot-ish stuff.

They’d decided to convene on the roof. Rose wanted to enjoy the view of the city, Derek needed the fresh air and the background clatter of city noises to keep his control, and Cora wasn’t going to let herself be confined in the small apartment with someone she doesn’t know anything about. It had seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea at the time.

They barely have time to sit down to start their talk when they hear growling approaching from the fire escape. Derek sighs. “When it rains, it pours…” he mutters, and resigns himself to dealing with yet another shitstorm.

“Our stalkers?” Cora asks, dropping into a defensive stance and shifting to her Beta form.

“Yep,” Derek answers, moving to stand in front of her.

“Here to kill us?” she growls, shooting him a glare that very clearly says _I told you so_. Because those are definitely not friendly growls.

He rolls his eyes. “Yep.” As predicted. As always. Why aren’t they ever just here to stop in for tea? Why always with the killing? Derek hates his life. “Rose, you should probably go now. This isn’t your fight, no reason you should get hurt, too.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rose tells him, and he turns to frown at her. She shrugs, looking unnervingly calm and unafraid. “They won’t see me.”

He starts narrowing his eyes at her as he watches her slip something around her neck, but feels his gaze shift elsewhere against his will. He’s confused for a moment and wants to question her if he can just figure out where the hell she went and why he can’t quite see her right, but he doesn’t get a chance to question it, as the pack jumps up onto the roof.

It’s not just one or two, like he’d hoped. He’d only ever been able to identify one scent following him, and Cora hadn’t said anything about multiple scents after her, so he’d been hopeful that it was just a few individuals. But this-- this is a full pack, a big one. Seven already up over the edge of the roof, and, from the sound of it, more on the way.

“Derek…” Cora starts, sounding frightened, and he agrees, but really, what can they do at this point? They have little chance of holding their own against this many attackers. But they have to try. They have to fight. It’s what they do.

Derek is actually pleasantly surprised at how well they’re holding their own against the pack as the fighting starts, grievously outnumbered as they are, but it’s not enough. He knows it’s not enough. It’s only a matter of time before they’re overpowered.

And, apparently, that time is now. Cora’s being held down by two of the pack, gutted by a third. Derek’s surrounded by the rest, slipping in his own blood, trying in vain to stand back up through the pain of broken bones and shredded muscles.

“Alright, that’s enough,” a voice calls from behind him, and in case just her voice and words weren’t enough of a shock, the pack actually seems to listen, stepping back and away from Derek and Cora, retreating towards the fire escape.

Rose walks up to stand level with Derek, putting a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes alight golden-- not Beta gold, not the glowing irises he’s used to, but something else entirely. Raw power and fury and love, shining like the sun from somewhere deep within.

Something washes over him, spreading from where Rose’s hand rests on his shoulder. He can’t tell quite what it is. A song, a light, an emotion. His wounds vanish, and he can hear Cora gasp as hers probably do the same. He feels-- the only word he can think of is cleansed. Rose bends down to speak into his ear. “Stop. Not everything is your fault.” Her voice echoes in a way that tells him she’s something more right now. This isn’t Rose Tyler. This is Bad Wolf.

She straightens and stares down their foes. “Enough,” she repeats. The pack growls and launches at her. She just raises one hand, and a flash of light comes from… somewhere. Derek is tempted to say her outstretched palm, but that’s not quite right. He shields his eyes instinctively, even though it’s not exactly bright in a way lights usually are.

The results aren’t quite what Derek had expected. He expected them to all be thrown back, action movie style, maybe, but that’s not what happens. The pack just stumbles mid-step, shaking their heads in confusion, blinking their eyes clear.

“What-- um, what just happened?” the Alpha asks uncertainly as he recovers, glancing between Derek, Cora, and Rose.

Derek exchanges a confused look with Cora, because what the hell? Do they… what? Not know what they’ve just done? Some sort of amnesia thing?

Well, that’s not going to cut it this time. Derek’s had enough of being a pawn in someone else’s game. Derek wants answers.

Derek growls and stalks towards the Alpha, who tries to back away. He’s not fast enough to escape, though, and Derek backs him up to the very edge of the rooftop. “Why did you attack us?” Derek demands.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry! We didn’t-- that wasn’t us! Well, I mean, it _was_ us, obviously, but, we didn’t mean to, I don’t know why we--” the Alpha cringes and stutters, confused and defensive and obviously afraid.

Derek sighs, already tired of the man’s excuses. “Fine, so you didn’t want to. Why did you?”

“He-- he told us to, and, I don’t know, we just, we _did it_. Didn’t even question, I don’t know if we _could’ve_ , how did he--”

“He who?” Derek growls, losing patience.

“We thought he was dead! We heard-- God, so many conflicting reports, and then one day he calls us and tells us to follow you, and when he sent word, to _kill_ \--” the Alpha continues, babbling frantically.

“Who sent you?” Derek demands again, reaching out to grip his shirt by the collar and sneer threats into his face. The man wimpers. Derek takes a moment to scoff internally. Not much of an Alpha, is he, cowering in the face of a mere Beta? Practically an Omega, really, if Derek is truly honest with himself. But back to the point. “ _Who?_ ” he growls again, reveling in the power he has over this man.

“Peter-- Peter Hale,” he gasps, and Derek hears the man’s shirt rip under his lengthening claws. “Ah, no, please don’t kill me!”

“Derek,” Rose interrupts from behind him, “let him go.”

Reluctantly, Derek complies. After taking a few breaths to compose himself, a few moments to curse himself for not just killing his uncle again while he was still weak and making it _fucking permanent this time, God damn it_ , he grits out, “I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to kill _him_.” Pausing, he amends bitterly, “...Again.” _Fuck._

“What took him so long?” Cora asks, startling Derek. In all the excitement, he’d almost forgotten she was here. “I mean, he obviously knew where we’ve been this whole time. Why wait until now for the kill order?”

“He was waiting for something,” the Alpha stammers. “The-- the right moment?”

“The moment. All he said was, ‘the moment,’” one of the other pack members corrects.

“Right. Waiting for ‘the moment,’ whatever that means. And when he called today, he said, ‘the moment is coming.’” He shifts uncertainly under Derek’s scrutinizing gaze. “I don’t-- does that mean something? Is that a thing? It sounds like a thing.”

It means nothing to Derek, but he won’t admit that to this guy. He glances at Rose to see if she has anything to offer, but she just shrugs. Whatever, he can figure it out later, if it’s relevant. “You should leave. Run, now. Somewhere Peter won’t find you.”

“Right. Yes, of course. He’ll probably kill us when he finds out we failed, if he finds us. Smart move, we’re gonna just… yeah. Run away, now. Bye!” He grabs two of his packmates by the arm as he turns and launches himself off the roof. Not a very graceful exit, clearly, as Derek can hear the clatters and crashes and grunts of a few of them missing the fire escape in their haste. Derek rolls his eyes. _Pathetic._

There’s a beat of silence as the last sounds of the pack’s retreat fade away, and then Derek asks, “Is it just me, or was he kind of a shitty Alpha?”

Cora stifles a laugh and claps him on the shoulder. “Nah, bro, you’re just super awesome. I’ve been trying to tell you.” He feels his eyes crinkle in amused fondness at the old argument.

“So,” Rose starts, “your uncle. He’s annoyingly hard to kill, isn’t he?”

Derek heaves an exasperated sigh. “You could say that.”

Cora frowns at Rose, suspicious. “How do you know anything about Peter?” she asks, and, well, that’s a fairly valid question.

“Stiles told me,” she answers with a fond smile.

Cora groans in frustration and annoyance. “Stiles, _again?_ Always Stiles! What the hell is it with this kid?”

Derek and Rose share a look, because Stiles… well. He’s something else, that’s for sure. Something special. And both of them have seen it.

“Ugh, whatever,” Cora grumbles, clearly done with the subject, the two of them, and, really, the entire day. “I’m going back inside. I have homework. You two can swoon over Stiles all on your own.”

“Cora, don’t you want to--” Derek starts, because he really does want to keep her in the loop.

“Catch me up later,” she calls back to him as she jumps down the fire escape.

“Cora,” Rose calls, and to Derek’s surprise, his sister does stop and turn back to look at the other woman. “Trust him. Tell him. He’ll believe you.”

Cora’s eyes widen and she opens her mouth as if to say something in return, but no sound comes out. Derek raises his eyebrows at her as her eyes flicker over to him, halfway expecting her to step back up and start explaining, but instead she just snaps her mouth shut, nods once, and descends.

He turns to fix Rose with an accusing glare. “Want to tell me what that was about?”

She just smirks at him and shakes her head. “She will. Don’t worry about it.”

He really hates being kept in the dark, but-- fine. Maybe it’s not her story to tell. And if he’ll finally be able to get the truth out of Cora from all of this, then maybe he can wait just a little bit longer.

Silence descends on the rooftop for a few minutes while both Derek and Rose seem completely unsure of what to say. Finally, Derek gives up, huffs out a breath, and says, “Well, that went better than expected.”

Rose eyes him skeptically. “It did?”

“Of course it did. No one died. That’s… practically unheard of.” And isn’t that a depressing thought.

“Derek, you were nearly eviscerated,” Rose points out, still unconvinced.

He shrugs. “It happens.” Alarmingly frequently, if he’s honest with himself.

Rose shakes her head at him, apparently exasperated. “You are way too zen about being everybody’s whipping boy. Honestly, Derek, you need to realize, not everything is your fault. You don’t deserve this. You must know that.”

He doesn’t know that, though. It sure feels like his fault. All of it. Every bad thing that has happened in Beacon Hills for his entire life. He purses his lips and looks away.

She smiles wryly at him. “You don’t trust me. I get that. But if you won’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe Stiles. You trust him.”

“I don’t trust anybody,” he says automatically, though that’s not really true any more.

She fixes him with a Look. “You trust Stiles.” And okay, fine, he does. Doesn’t know how it happened, exactly, or when, but he does. Her look turns to something sly and conspiratorial as she regards him, and he fights back the urge to fidget. “It’s more than just trusting him, though, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, even though he really does. She knows it, too, and quirks an eyebrow at him. He grits his teeth. “What you’re implying, that’s-- It’s inappropriate.” He mentally facepalms. If that’s the best he can come up with...

Rose rolls her eyes at him. “Derek, you found out aliens are real, and the first thing you think of is Stiles.”

Derek shifts uncomfortably, staring resolutely down at his feet. “I don’t-- I kind of hoped you hadn’t noticed that,” he mumbles.

She gives an exasperated sigh and smiles sadly. “You aren’t going to break him, Derek. He needs you.”

“You don’t know that,” Derek whispers. How can it possibly be true, anyway? He breaks everything he touches. He killed his family, Paige, Boyd and Erica, turned Jackson into the kanima, turned Peter into whatever monster he is now… He can’t risk doing that to Stiles, too.

The smile fades from her face, and her eyes glow gold. “I do,” Bad Wolf answers. “Return to him. While there’s still a chance to save him.”

Well, that sounds ominous. “Save him from what?” he asks, but the Bad Wolf glow has already faded from her eyes.

Rose slumps and sinks heavily onto one of his makeshift benches. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Great.” He drops down onto the seat across from her. “He’s just so…” He struggles to find the proper words to describe Stiles. He doesn’t think such words exist, to encompass all that Stiles is.

“Clever? Stubborn?” she supplies.

“ _Infuriating_ ,” he growls, startling a laugh out of her.

“He certainly is that,” she agrees, still grinning.

“What does it matter, anyway? Not like he’ll ever feel the same for me,” he grumbles.

“No, Derek,” she says, shaking her head emphatically, “you don’t get to decide what he feels.”

He scowls petulantly, and if anyone asks, he will adamantly deny that he pouts. “Well, he shouldn’t.” Derek _does not pout._

She scrutinizes him with narrowed eyes, and he wonders what he did wrong. “Hm. Maybe.” And, what? Derek thinks he should be offended. Or… jealous? What exactly is that look she’s giving him right now? “Well, I’d best be off, then,” she declares, and pushes back to her feet.

He frowns and stands with her. “Oh. Right. But what about--”

“Take care of yourself. Take care of Stiles. And don’t you dare get yourself killed before he gets to see you again. He’d never forgive himself.”

“Why the hell would he think it’s his fault if I get killed? Rose, wait, what--”

But he doesn’t get the answers he wants. She grins and vanishes with the press of a button of the device on her wrist. He’s left there on the rooftop, feeling bewildered and a bit bamboozled. He’s almost certain he missed something very important in their whole exchange, but he doesn’t even know where to start to try to figure out what.

He frowns at the empty space where she last stood for another minute, mutters to himself, “I didn’t even get to ask about anything from the book.” Well. Maybe he’ll have to turn to Professor Williams after all. Might be a good idea anyway, might be nice to have a friend, of sorts, that he can talk to about some of the strangeness in his life without looking like an insane person.

He almost wonders if he imagined the entire afternoon’s events, but… No. He can definitely still feel the aftereffects of whatever Bad Wolf did to him, which… what exactly did Bad Wolf do to him? And of course she ran away before he could ask, and who the hell else would know anything about his predicament?

Stiles might. All roads lead to Stiles.

He sighs in frustration at once again being left in the dark about nearly everything important in his life yet again. Well, maybe he can clear some of that up when he has his chat with Cora. If she decides to actually talk this time, that is. He makes a face, since no one will see, and climbs back down to the apartment.


	8. Chapter 8

Cora and Derek are settled into their favorite spots in the living room back at their apartment, ruminating over the day’s events, avoiding each other’s eyes and pointedly avoiding saying any of the things that need to be said.

Derek eventually runs out of patience. “So? Finally going to tell me everything?” he asks, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Cora sighs, slumping her shoulders in defeat. “Yeah. Okay, fine.” She doesn’t continue, though, just stares petulantly at the coffee table.

“Any particular reason you haven’t told me before now?” he asks, hoping to prompt her into finding somewhere to start.

“I didn’t-- I didn’t think you’d believe me,” she mutters, glancing away and fidgeting sheepishly.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Cora. We’re _werewolves_. We’re supposed to be _fictional_. Only reason we are what we are is because of _time travel_ and Stiles’ endless stubbornness. How could _anything_ you tell me be _less believable_ than Stiles creating werewolves?”

Her eyes snap up to meet his. “Oh, my God,” she breathes. “That stupid Bad Wolf story you’ve been obsessed with forever, that-- _oh my GOD_ , Derek!” She bursts out laughing. “Little Red-- You-- I _knew_ it, I _knew_ you had a thing for Stiles, I just never guessed it was _this_ \--”

“What-- I do not have a ‘thing’ for Stiles,” he blurts, and she just laughs harder as she hears the uptick in his heartbeat over the lie. He growls in frustration. “Stop changing the subject. You were going to tell me the truth about what happened to you.”

“Al _right_ , alright, fine,” she says, fighting to contain her amusement. He knows he’ll be endlessly teased for this later. He wonders how she even found out about his little crush, but then, she has been scarily perceptive about his emotional state ever since her return.

Silence stretches between them again, and Derek fixes her with a glare. “Any time now.”

Her expression sobers, and she sighs sadly. “I know, just-- give me a minute.” He settles back in his seat to listen when she’s ready. She fidgets for a while longer before speaking again. "You know how we were all trapped in the basement during the fire, right?" she asks, and he nods once, trying to keep from wincing at the mention. "There was a sink hole in one corner, remember? Mom would always tell us to stay away from it. Nothing she ever did to try to fill it in or cover it up worked right."

"I remember," he says softly.

"Well. When everything... There was just so much smoke, so much heat. We were all stumbling around blindly, trying to find a way out. I wound up in that corner, and I fell. I just kept falling, sinking, through the ground, for hundreds of feet. No one could pull me back up from that, especially with them all caught in the--" she cuts off and takes a ragged breath. “I lost consciousness, eventually. I don’t remember landing. Must’ve triggered some sort of alarm during the fall, though, and when I woke up, I was in some sort of medical bay, surrounded by… lizard… people.” She makes a face, like she doesn’t know how to describe them.

“Lizard people,” he repeats. “Like… kanimas?”

She shakes her head emphatically. “No, definitely not kanimas. These are something else. We couldn’t speak the same language, at first, but they have some telepathic abilities. They figured out a way to communicate with me through that. I guess maybe they can't communicate that way with normal humans, but werewolves have some latent telepathic abilities."

Derek nods. "Pack bonds are a type of telepathic linking, I guess. Could be that."

"Probably, yeah," Cora agrees. "Anyway. Seems they were the first evolution of sentient life on Earth, back during the time of dinosaurs. I think the name they gave themselves roughly translates to Silurian?" She says it like a question, as if she expects him to correct her.

He doesn't know how to respond to that, so he just shrugs and says, "Silurians. Okay."

She apparently just needed a sign that he was following along and maybe even believing her, and his acceptance seems to do the trick. She relaxes minutely and continues. "Well. They're impressively technologically advanced, but foresaw some sort of cataclysmic global disaster coming a few million years ago and built hibernating colonies underground to protect themselves. The pods malfunctioned and didn't wake them when they were supposed to, but the ones under Beacon Hills apparently activated a waking signal when buildup of damage from California’s many earthquakes eventually threatened the integrity of the colony.”

Derek frowns. "Global cataclysm millions of years ago didn't wake them, but a few earthquakes did?"

She shrugs. "Don't ask me, I didn't design their system." He quirks a disbelieving eyebrow, but she continues. "They realized, when they woke, that humans had taken over the surface. Not really any place for them to rise and rebuild. But they have a pretty decent colony going on underground. They remained below, and that's where I fell to."

“So they took you in? Just like that?”

“What else could they do? My entire family was dead, I didn’t have anyone who could take care of me back on the surface. I was just a kid, not like I was going to attack them. No one was looking for me, no one was left to care that I was gone.” Her eyes are bright with held-back tears.

He nods, understanding then why he’d never known she was alive. “Laura and I left for New York, right after. You couldn’t have known we were still alive. At that range…”

“Yeah. Even when I adapted to the telepathy thing, which I’m pretty sure has changed my pack bonds somehow, made it easier to read you or whatever. Even then, the opposite side of the continent is a bit out of my range.”

He scowls, feeling like he’d abandoned her for all those years and hating himself for it. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault. You thought I was dead, you were afraid of the hunters, it made sense for you to get out of town.” He still doesn’t feel great about it, but she doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge. She continues her story. “They raised me as one of their own, educated me. They’re kind of crazy-technologically-advanced, it’s pretty awesome. Kind of lacking in literature, and they don’t know anything about human history, but their science skills are pretty sweet.”

Well, that explains the gaps in her education. “Sounds like you had it pretty good, there. Why did you leave?”

She smiles wryly at him. “They were fantastic,” she says, “the best adoptive family I could ask for. I had everything I needed. Except for a pack.” And that’s something he understands, more than anything. “About a year ago, I felt something happening on the surface. It felt like pack, like _family_ , was close again.”

“Laura,” Derek realizes.

Cora nods. “Yeah, must’ve been. It wasn’t there long, like that, before it changed. Shifted to something twisted and dark. I’m guessing that’s when Peter…” Derek swallows tightly and nods once, lips set in a grim line. Cora’s eyes flash in anger, but she continues. “I debated whether to return right then, but I wasn’t sure. The Silurians would help me, if I decided I wanted to go, but I was still safe and welcome there. I wasn’t ready yet. But then it changed again.”

“When I killed Peter,” he guesses.

“Right. And then it felt like home, like family and safety and pack again, and everything I needed. And so powerful, like… so much like Mom. I needed to find it, needed that pack again, so I had the Silurians help me get back. I returned to the surface, they stayed below.” Derek can’t meet her eyes, but she takes his hand and clutches it while she speaks. “Derek, you don’t even know. You have no idea how powerful you are.”

He snorts in disbelief. “I’m not, though. I was a terrible Alpha.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Well, sure, but that was mostly just poor decision-making. That had nothing to do with how powerful you were. Much stronger than what I felt from Laura.”

Derek frowns at that. “No, that can’t be right. Laura was the strong one, _she_ was the leader. A natural. I was never meant to be an Alpha.”

She smiles sadly. “Well, you were hardly given a chance to find out, were you? You were just a teenager when the fire happened, you were in no fit state to take on the role of Alpha at that point. Laura was the most stable. It made sense that she inherited the role. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t have the potential.” She squeezes the hand she’s been holding. “And as far as I’m concerned, you’ve proven yourself now. You got off to a rocky start, sure--” He snorts at the understatement, and she glares at him fondly. “--but you learned. And these past few months, you’ve been the best Alpha I ever could’ve hoped for.”

“Still not an Alpha,” he grumbles, but it’s halfhearted.

She rolls her eyes and flaps her free hand to wave away the thought. “Semantics. You may not have the powers anymore, but you’ve been acting-Alpha to me for long enough that it doesn’t really matter any more.” He can’t help the soft smile forming in response to the glint in her eyes. She sobers after a moment’s pause and studies him. “You really are so much like her,” she says, voice gentle and sad. “Like Mom, I mean.”

He can’t think what to say to that, so he pulls her into a hug. It’s the first they’ve shared since before the fire, and he squeezes tight, as though to make up for lost time and apologize for the past few months of mistrust all at once. From the way she’s squeezing back just as tight, he thinks maybe she forgives him.


	9. Chapter 9

Derek has been fighting off a headache since the early hours of the morning, after a phantom pain sliced across his chest, jolting him out of his sleep. The chest pain had faded slowly, bleeding away from its origin over his heart to take root as a dull throbbing in his brain. He tried to get back to sleep for a few hours, hoping rest might make the pain fade away, but no such luck on either front. He gives up when his alarm clock goes off, decides to skip his morning workout, groggily stumbling into the kitchen when his alarm clock goes off. Cora’s already up and disgustingly cheerful, humming contentedly to herself while she studies from her biology textbook.

“Hey, big bro! What’s for breakfast?” she asks brightly, grinning at his disheveled state. They’ve relaxed around each other quite a lot over the past few weeks, ever since Bad Wolf’s visit. He’s usually glad of that, but right now he kind of just misses the silence.

“Can you not right now? And what the hell is that beeping?” Derek complains, pinching the bridge of his nose against his growing headache.

“Woah, hey, chill out. I think your phone is ringing,” Cora observes with a smirk.

He picks the offending device up off the counter and frowns at it in confusion. It is, indeed, ringing. Why is it ringing? No one ever calls him. The caller ID flashes Stiles’ name. “What the hell?” he mutters, then swipes at the screen to accept the call. “What?” he snaps, in way of greeting.

“Derek. Ah, hey. Sorry for calling you out of the blue like this…” He sounds exhausted, hollow.

“What do you want, Stiles?” If his head wasn’t pounding so badly, Derek might put in the effort to sound worried at Stiles’ tone. But as it is, he just wants to go hide in his room in the dark until it all fades away.

“Right. Um. So, you know your psychotic zombie uncle?”

“Yes, I know my uncle Peter.” Derek rolls his eyes.

“No, yeah, of course you do. Well. A few things. First, just thought you might like to know, he’s probably sending people to kill you, if he hasn’t already.”

“He has.”

“Oh, good, so you know, then. Awesome. Next… one of two things is going to happen right now,” Stiles sighs. “One, our plan works, and you lose yet another family member-- again-- sorry. Two, we fail, all of us die, he basically becomes invincible, and you’re next on his hit list, so watch your back. Either way--”

Derek’s frown shifts from angry to concerned, and Cora stands, echoing his frown with one of her own, moving closer so she can hear better. “What-- Stiles, wait, what do you mean ‘all of us die’?”

Stiles continues as if Derek hadn’t even spoken. “Either way, things are ending badly for at least one of us, possibly all of us, so I just wanted to let you know-- _oh, fuck--!_ ” There’s a commotion on the other end, and the line goes dead.

“ _Stiles? Stiles!_ ” he shouts uselessly into the phone. He pulls it away from his ear, and he and Cora stare at it in stunned silence. After a minute, he looks at her with a question in his eyes, and she nods grimly in wordless agreement. He rushes to his computer to book the flight while she scrambles to pack their bags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry. I know that one wasn’t as good. Necessary for future storybuilding, and definitely necessary for me to get to know the characters, but still not as good. Told you, I don’t know Derek’s inner workings as well. And I really kinda just want to get on to the next parts.
> 
> This one set up a lot for future parts of the story. You’ll find out some of the whats and and wherefores very soon. I am at least as excited as you are to find out where this is going. Because honestly I have no clue how this all happened. It’s seriously spiraling out of control. IT WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE A ONE-SHOT ABOUT BAD WOLF IN BEACON HILLS HOW DID THIS HAPPEN aaaaahjeez.
> 
> But, mwahahaa! Leaving you with a cliffhanger, as I vanish off the face of the earth for a while! Hopefully next time I get internet access, I’ll be able to post at least one more story. Tremendous progress has already been made on some of them, but a few are intertwined enough that I need to work out quite a few more details before I can justify posting more.
> 
> Coming up in parts 3-5 of this series, not necessarily in this order: Stiles and Doctor interaction, what Rose gets up to outside of her Beacon Hills adventures, and a visit with some old friends in London.


End file.
